Late Ming Dynasty: From the Defeated Soldiers at Daling River to Ascending the Throne

The stockade wall is about two zhang high and is made of rammed earth. There is a wooden ladder on the inside leading to the walkway at the top.

As Meng Changgeng climbed the wooden ladder, he could feel it swaying slightly. It wasn't that the ladder was unstable; it was that his legs were shaking.

He cursed himself inwardly.

Why are you shaking? It's not like it's the first time I've been on the wall.

It was indeed the first time he had ever worn stolen Tartar armor, and in the dead of night, he was going to light a deadly torch in this huge bandit camp.

He glanced back at Hao Dadao, who was keeping watch at the foot of the wooden ladder. Perhaps he was afraid that the burly man would clumsily stick the torch in the wrong place and would rather die than come up by himself.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to steady his breathing, and climbed the stockade wall step by step.

The late autumn night wind blew in from the northeast, and Meng Changgeng shrank his neck, the fur on his neck rubbing against his chin, feeling a little prickly.

He glanced around.

The passageway at the top of the stockade wall was about five feet wide, with crenellations half a person high on the outside. There were not many torches on the top of the wall; only the four corner watchtowers and the two camp gates had fixed lighting. Every ten or so steps, a pine torch was stuck in the ground, and large sections of the wall were shrouded in shadow.

There was no one on the wall at this time. At this hour, the armored soldiers on night patrol would occasionally come up for a walk, but they wouldn't stay there permanently.

Meng Changgeng lowered his body and searched for a suitable position along the wall.

He chose a crenellation facing southeast, took a torch from behind him, and lit it.

After glancing around to make sure no one was there, he carefully inserted the torch into a ready-made iron ring at the edge of the barricade.

The iron ring, originally used for inserting flags or hanging lanterns, now held this pine torch with its flames flickering, the tip pointing directly east.

Meng Changgeng straightened up, facing southeast, and revealed half of his body from behind the wall, making his figure more visible in the firelight.

The forest to the southeast was pitch black, with no firelight and no human voices.

But that was their territory, and he believed that Zhao Sheng and dozens of night watchmen were lurking there.

Meng Changgeng recalled Zhao Sheng's actions of smashing the wall in the Yizhou garrison fortress a couple of days ago, and he punched the wall himself, wincing in pain.

It hurts like hell! That bastard, he smashed the wall like nothing happened!? What a crude brute!

Meng Changgeng cursed inwardly, glanced again in the southeast direction, and then turned and went downstairs.

Hao Dadao and the others waited in the shadows by the wall. When Meng Changgeng came down, the two did not speak, but exchanged a glance.

They approached the grain storage area one after the other.

On the west side of the camp, a dozen or so grain bins, resembling small hills, were arranged in a staggered pattern. Each bin was three or four zhang high, with a passageway more than ten zhang wide between them, wide enough for oxcarts to pass through.

At this moment, several oxcarts were parked near the north side of the passage, with grain sacks piled high on them. It was estimated that the grain would be transported to the front line of Dalinghe early tomorrow morning.

There should have been four guards by the cart, but they had all hidden in the cowshed next door. They didn't seem to mind the smell of the cows and were all fast asleep with their heads on the cows' bellies.

Meng Changgeng and Hao Dadao lay in the shadows behind the grain stacks, looking for an opportunity to set fire. Only when the camp was in chaos would the Tartars have no time to pay attention to the gunpowder depot.

"Arrow tower." Hao Dadao lowered his voice and gestured with his chin toward the northwest corner.

Meng Changgeng followed Hao Dadao's gaze and saw a watchtower standing there, taller than the stockade wall, open on all sides, overlooking the entire grain storage area, with figures moving vaguely on the tower.

If they set fire to this place, the three men on the watchtower can shoot them both into pincushions, so we must take down the watchtower first.

But how can we win?

The arrow tower has only one wooden ladder, which can only accommodate one person at a time.

With Hao Dadao's skills and the cloth armor he was wearing, it wouldn't be difficult for him to rush up and cut down three Tartars who were only wearing ordinary cotton armor.

But the Tartars weren't stupid. If they just made an alarm, the surrounding Tartars would rush over and chop them both into mincemeat.

Moreover, the area around the arrow tower was completely open. Did those two red-armored "Bayala"s think everyone was blind as they swaggered over there?

Meng Changgeng instinctively grabbed his earlobe and bit his lip.

Just then, an even louder commotion suddenly erupted from the direction of the camp gate, with someone roaring and the crisp sound of whips striking flesh.

The three people on the watchtower turned their heads in unison and looked towards the camp gate. One of them was still drawing his bow in that direction.

The opportunity is coming!

The two looked at each other and nodded.

Hao Dadao emerged silently from the shadows, and in a few leaps, he was right beneath the arrow tower.

The wooden ladder was right beside him. He pressed down on the frame and started climbing. His armor rubbed against each other, but the noise from the camp gate drowned out his movements.

Since the wooden ladder could only accommodate one person at a time, Meng Changgeng climbed onto the village wall, intending to jump over it.

Once he got onto the stockade wall, he realized how difficult it was to jump over from this side.

The walkway at the top of the stockade wall is about half a zhang away from the second floor of the arrow tower, and the wooden planks of the walkway are nearly four chi lower than the floor of the arrow tower.

He looked at the ground about two zhang below his feet, his throat tightened, and he swallowed.

If you can't jump over it, breaking your leg is the least of your worries; what if you're unlucky and land headfirst...

Shake your head to clear these jumbled thoughts from your mind.

He is afraid of death.

He was always very afraid of dying.

But he was very lucky! He was just a scholar who had studied for a few years. Although he didn't have the skills of the leader and Zhao Sheng, he survived more than ten battles, big and small, and was even found by the leader when he was captured by the Tartars. The leader had said he wouldn't abandon them, so he couldn't hold the leader back.

He saw that Hao Dadao had already climbed to the top of the wooden ladder. He could enter the arrow tower with just a peek, and he could be discovered at any moment.

Can't wait any longer!

He gritted his teeth and sprinted with all his might. When he reached the edge of the wall, he kicked out and flew into the air towards the arrow tower!

Half a zhang (approximately 3.3 meters) is not wide, but the armor on his body was pulled straight down by gravity. The wind was whistling in his ears, and Meng Changgeng felt that the time spent in the air was longer than a year.

He finally reached the edge of the arrow tower and slammed his chest hard against the floorboards with a dull thud.

His fingers dug so hard into the cracks in the wooden board that his nails snapped, and excruciating pain shot from his fingertips straight to the top of his head.

His lower body was suspended in the air, like a tattered rag hanging from the eaves, teetering on the verge of falling.

The three people on the watchtower heard the noise.

They turned their heads from the direction of the camp gate and saw the red-armored "Bayala" that suddenly appeared behind them, hanging on the edge of the floorboards.

The three of them were stunned for a moment.

In that moment of distraction, Hao Dadao's head popped up from the stairwell.

His large hands reached out from behind, like two iron clamps, firmly gripping the sides of the two nearest heads and slamming them together!

The two heads collided with a "thud," and their bodies went limp.

The third person turned around and saw what was happening. He opened his mouth to shout, but a large hand grabbed him with a whooshing sound and choked his throat.

Hao Dadao gripped the sides of his Adam's apple with his thumb and forefinger and twisted it! Another soft sound.

The man's neck was tilted to one side at an odd angle, his eyes were still open, but his pupils were already dilated.

Hao Dadao loosened his grip, and the corpse silently slid to the ground.

He looked down at the three Tartar corpses piled at his feet, then at Meng Changgeng, who was still hanging on the edge of the floorboards, his fingernails bleeding.

"Scholar!" he whispered, "Hand."

Meng Changgeng gritted his teeth and raised his arm. Hao Dadao grabbed his wrist and lifted him up from mid-air as easily as lifting a chick.

Meng Changgeng slumped onto the arrow tower floor, gasping for breath. His lips trembled for a long time before he finally managed to squeeze out, "I'll never... I'll never do this kind of shit again in my life..."

That's terrifying! After I finish this job and get the money, I'll go to the capital to donate money to become a tribute student and take the imperial examination!

Hao Dadao squatted down, glanced at his fingers where his nails were bent and bleeding, patted him heavily on the shoulder, and muttered in praise, "Scholar, you've got guts."

Meng Changgeng raised his head, his eyes red-rimmed, whether from pain or fear, it was hard to tell. "Remember to treat me to a drink later!"

"No problem," Hao Dadao said.

As he spoke, Hao Dadao helped Meng Changgeng up; they didn't have time to rest there.

Downstairs, four soldiers in the grain storage area had been awakened by the commotion at the camp gate and were tiptoeing to look south.

Hao Dadao and Meng Changgeng silently drew their swords, crept up behind the four men, and cut them down in a few swift moves.

The cotton stuffed between the grain sacks was ignited, and the flames licked the dry burlap sacks, quickly leaping up along the gaps.

Meng Changgeng went to the cowshed and pulled out the wooden wedges that secured the door.

The seven or eight pack oxen began to stir when they smelled the acrid odor of burning grain and sacks.

Once the fire spreads, these cows will rampage through the camp.

"Go!" He tossed his head at Hao Dadao and sprinted off towards the west side of the camp.

The leaves rustled, and the sound of the wind filled my ears.

As he passed that familiar tent, Meng Changgeng suddenly stopped in his tracks.

At the entrance of the tent, two guards leaned against the flagpole, holding their weapons, clearly still faithfully carrying out the orders they had left behind: guard this place and do not disturb it.

Inside the tents they were guarding, the corpses of Gultai and others lay scattered about.

Meng Changgeng glanced at Hao Dadao, gripped the dagger in his hand, and crept behind the two guards.

The two guards heard footsteps and instinctively turned around.

They recognized the two people in red armor. One of them opened his mouth as if to ask something, but he never got the chance to ask.

Two gleaming blades flashed, leaving two corpses in front of the camp gate.

Meng Changgeng kicked over the brazier stand next to the tent flap, and the glowing embers poured out and rolled into the half-closed tent curtain.

The felt blankets ignited instantly upon contact with fire, and the flames quickly licked up the tent walls. In just a few breaths, the entire tent became a towering torch.